


Requiem

by hanniballin



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Heaven & Hell, Judgement, Lawyers, More tags later, Prison, Stupid References, angels & demons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanniballin/pseuds/hanniballin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Out of all the angels that could have been defense lawyers, they picked one who has no inkling of a clue as to what he's doing. Ronove's in for a trip.</p><p>_______________</p><p>An actual summary might come later when this is finished, haha, sorry. But for now, this is just an original work that I'm trying to get finished. Expect a chapter a week, if possible. Thanks for reading!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Requiem

"Ronove, seriously?" For a moment, Ronove contemplates saying that he is serious. Everyone knew he wasn't, but he's known to pull their legs. His companion, a tall and lanky demon named Xander, isn't unfamiliar with this.  
"No. Jeez, why would I willingly want to be a mentor for an angel brat?" he laughs back, his mouth spreading into a grin. Angels are self-righteous creatures of God, so, in short, he hates being around them. Blue-eyed beasts with attitudes as large as their faith. They're usually rude towards him, seeing that he is, well, a demon. Demon is a harsh term, usually used towards evil individuals and most of the time, he doesn't feel that evil. Heck, he never feels evil. Who even _feels_ evil?  
"So, how did you get stuck with him?" Xander questions, nudging his side.  
"Ugh. Gabriel," Ronove replies and the other demon hisses slightly, sipping the coffee he has in the flowery Dixie cup in his hand. Black from the smell of it. He could go for some coffee.  
"Good luck with that brat. Heard that the fledglings this time around were annoying as all get out," Xander tells him, tossing the paper Dixie cup into the trash.  
"Yeah, great. I hope this one isn't some self-righteous imbecile who actually doesn't know his purpose," he explains, straightening his tie as he turns to walk towards his cubicle. His fifteen is almost up and he'd need to get back to the office soon.  
"And what might that purpose be?" the other man asks, stopping him in his tracks. He narrows his eyes for a moment before speaking.  
"To serve."

The cubicle he works in is small, smaller than most cubicles. Like, only small enough for him and his desk and that's it. It's claustrophobic enough as it is, but now he comes back to this large six-foot-something angel standing in his cubicle. He looks different from what Ronove had envisioned, but heck, he really doesn't care what he looks like. His name is Adriel, as the name tag he dons says in neat, spidery handwriting. Adriel. He knows the suffix means "from" or "of God", and he guesses it makes sense because this is an _angel_ , but it really gets irritating when all angels' names sound the same. The one standing in front of him has sandy brown hair and light blue eyes that you really don't think normal people should have. His suit is crisp and fresh, tinted this purple colour with a dark grey tie around his neck. He really wonders if he can breath because it looks _that_ stiff.  
"I'm assuming that you're Ronove?" he says, squinting a little before returning to his placid expression. He can feel resentment, but he resents the kid, too. He's biased.  
"Indeed. Adriel? A pleasure," Ronove responds, taking a seat in the desk in the cubicle. Adriel takes a seat almost daintily, the epitome of grace right across from him. Disgusting.  
"Yes. Same to you," Adriel responds with a nod. He waits for the nasty comments, green eyes narrowing to look in his blue ones. All angels are brats. He knows this one isn't any different. His eyes land on a file, probably the kid's. It's a manila folder with "Class A" scribbled on the corner in messy printing. Michael's handwriting.

He can't really imagine why a Class A angel would be assigned to him, but he doesn't think to question it. Gabriel has his reasons for everything, he supposes. Well, he's been told, at least. He didn't know from his own experience.  
"Adriel, Class A fledgling," he begins, turning the pages into the file folder. More sloppy handwriting, obviously Michael's again. It gives just the basics of what his physical appearance looks like, giving weight and height. Overall, he's pretty normal. The only interesting thing that he can find about this angel is that he's close to Gabriel. In fact, the archangel wrote in that he was his parental figure a few times throughout the paperwork. Gabriel wouldn't give his almost-child to be Ronove's apprentice, no. Gabriel hates his guts. Like, he's never felt so much hatred from an angel and that's saying something. It seems a little too odd to believe, but he shrugs it off. He wouldn't get a straight answer anyways.  
"Why are you in Judgement if you're affiliated with Gabriel?" he questions, giving the younger male a critical expression. Adriel doesn't seem bothered, merely shrugs and sits up straighter in his chair before answering him.  
"Wanted to be here. Gabriel pulled strings to get me here, rather than at Headquarters," he explains cooly, like pulling strings is normal for Gabriel. Gabriel is too clean-cut to pull strings. That never happens. It doesn't make anymore sense than it did when the kid first came in. Gabriel wouldn't let a Class A convince him to go to Judgement. That just doesn't happen. He's pretty sure that it doesn't, anyways. It hasn't ever happened around him.

"Yeah, okay. I totally believe you," Ronove snorts sarcastically as he closes the file and slides it in amongst the other files for his previous fledgling assignments. He has about six in there. Probably because he isn't that great with fledglings. Little brats.  
"It makes no difference if you believe me or not." Oh, boy. He's probably going to strangle this little shit sooner or later. He can feel it in his bones, like that one song about radioactivity that keeps playing on the radio.  
"Okay. No. I kind of need to believe you, but whatever floats your boat," Ronove hisses a little, folding his hands neatly upon his desk.  
"Not really," Adriel mumbles before shifting and shrugging, "When's the first day of training?" Eager to begin? Usually angels are disdainful of beginning work with a demon. But, nonetheless, he isn't going to complain about him. This kid is essentially his errand runner for the next ten years.  
"Tomorrow. Can't believe that you're not ready to quit because you're paired with a demon," Ronove says, raising a brow in question. The angel shrugs again, meeting his gaze levelly.  
"I was taught to do unto others what I would have them do unto me. I do not wish to have your hatred directed at me." Oh. The response isn't one that he would suspect an _angel_ to spout to him. Most angel fledglings are jerks in innocent appearances. But, this kid? This kid might still be a jerk, but he's at least smart. Maybe. He doesn't know yet.

Adriel looks visibly unsteady, as if struggling with the silence around them. It makes a little sense because Ronove is not someone you'd want to talk to leisurely. He's snarky and more than rude. He didn't think it was that bad, but he's been told to improve. Never has.  
"So... What am I going to be doing here?" he suddenly asks, bringing Ronove from his thoughts. He raises his eyebrows questioningly. If he doesn't know what he's here for, why is he here in the first place? He shifts, leaning back in the leather chair he's seated in. The back of the headrest touches the wall of the cubicle and he makes a note to get that fixed with an increasingly large frown.  
"Well, here in Judgement, we are essentially the criminal justice system of Heaven. We take care of souls of the deceased and make sure that they go to the right places; Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory," he explains easily as he pulls on the knot of his tie to loosen it.  
"Lucky for you, you don't take any cases on your own until you pass an exam at the end of your apprenticeship. Until then, you're shadowing me," he explains. The angel across from him relaxes a little in response. He'd probably thought that he'd be going straight into cases and Ronove doesn't blame him for thinking so. He thought that at one point, too. Ah, his fledgling days. Half of it was stupidity and a lot of paper cuts.  
"You'll be my apprentice for ten years, as allotted in your file. So, basically, you listen to what I say, and you'll pass," he explains. Adriel does this weird little shiver and nods. He did that weird little shiver, too, with his mentor.

"Don't worry. I'm pretty good at what I do," Ronove smirks. Angels are defense lawyers. Ronove and demons like him? Prosecutors. They get the fun part of proving the defendant guilty. Most of the time they are guilty here. Not everyone gets to see the Pearly Gates. But, Hell isn't too bad, to be honest. It's a prison, yeah, but they've done away with a lot of the primitive means of torture and just settle with permanent confinement.  
"You're a prosecutor, right?" Adriel questions, sitting up straighter in his chair. It makes him look even more stiff and Ronove's aching from just watching him sit there.  
"Indeed. A damn good one," he responds. He's a little too prideful than he should be about sending people to Hell. The response makes Adriel stiffen and _how much stiffer could he get?_ Ronove counters it by slouching in his chair, leaning down and making himself comfortable. He feels it's a competition. He'd definitely win. That'll show him.  
"Okay. Um... Yeah. So, I'll be a defense lawyer. I can do that," Adriel mumbles, as if he's nervous about talking about his future occupation. Most people are eager to talk about it, considering that they have a chance to make sure people go to Heaven. Their hope is frivolous. Most people go to Hell anyways.

"What? Not satisfied?" Ronove questions, making Adriel look up suddenly.  
"I, uh, yeah. It's good," he says hastily, panic flashing in his eyes for a good two seconds.  
"Good. Be here at eight in the morning, tomorrow. We have a trial to attend," Ronove tells him, leaning back in his chair. The angel gets up and leaves promptly after saying goodbye. And Ronove can feel the apprehension. But, it just doesn't seem natural. Does he regret his decision to be in Judgement? He can come up with a few reasons why he would, but he got Gabe to "pull strings" to get him there. Gabe would have known if Adriel didn't actually want to be put into Judgement or not. Ronove leans back into his chair, before a new file flops down onto his desk, making him nearly fall out of the seat. Stupid files and their stupid appearing out of no where. Through his grumbling, he straightens and reaches for the file. A juicy one. A case of murder out of self-defense. They see these ones a lot, but these lines are more blurred than usual. A great one for Adriel's first attendance.


End file.
